


The Occasional Pawn

by HotpantsMcGee



Series: The Adventures of Our Lord Protector [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Sexual Content, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 22:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4722137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotpantsMcGee/pseuds/HotpantsMcGee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picking up after Alayne and Petyr's tryst in the crypts. Petyr finds some alone time. Winds of Winter universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Occasional Pawn

**Author's Note:**

> This is my follow up to _Alayne Makes the Rules_. All aboard the creepship, sweetlings.

Lord Baelish and Alayne emerged from the vaults, the sun was shining brightly. The light made him feel exposed, vulnerable for a moment. Petyr stole a glance at Sansa. He could almost see the copper in her hair, hidden beneath the lie. 

_She's more beautiful every day_ , he thinks as he takes in her glow. A smirk forming on its own accord. _She bloody well be glowing after that. Sansa Stark will be the death of me._ Petyr shook himself.

"Alayne, I just remembered some letters I need to write," he said with a smirk. "Why don't you find Lady Myranda and greet the guests yourself? I'm sure you're anxious to make an impression on young Harry. Charm him. Entrance him. Bewitch him."

"I don't know how," she said demurely. "Oh, I think you do," he said, giving her another grin. He swore he could see her blush. _Isn't that a sight, the temptress blushing._

Petyr laughed silently to himself as he started towards his solar. Once he was alone in a corridor he could no longer deny the pain she had caused him. Not in his heart, but below. He silently cursed himself for acting like a lovesick boy. Petyr licked his lips, tasting her once again. His cock twitched, tight against his leather breeches. 

_Gods be good, is this solar miles away?_ Petyr picked up his pace, attempting to ignore the pain. He was desperate for relief by the time he reached his door. A pitcher of wine was waiting for him and he quickly filled a cup to calm his nerves.

With shaking hands he removed the mockingbird pin from his cloak. Tossing the cloak over a chair he moved towards his bed, unfastening his doublet. Some days he missed the warmth of King's Landing, the robes, the simple ties. Although he never had much need for loose clothing in King's Landing. He couldn't recall a time in his adult life when he'd been so tense.

He was calm, composed, and calculated; until he decided to run away with Sansa Stark. Now Petyr was a flustered mess, attempting to tear off his clothes, while maintaining his composure. If only for himself. 

Petyr sighed with relief as he sprung forth from his breeches. He was painfully hard. Petyr felt like a teenager as he took himself in hand, attempting to alleviate this aching need. Biting the cork off a vial of scented oils he kept on his dressing table, he placed a few drops in his hand. He didn't plan on rubbing himself raw like some inexperienced boy. With any luck this wouldn't be his only release this evening.

 _This is what she does to you, and she knows it._ Petyr groaned as he slowly ran his hand up and down his length. The oil so warm on his skin, he felt as though he were on fire. On fire for the Queen of the North, future Lady of Winterfell. 

Sometimes he wondered if this insatiable lust was just because she couldn't be his. At least not now. Not soon enough. So many pieces had to be removed before he claimed his prize. His aching passion to have her whenever able was tearing him down.

He ran his thumb over the tip, already dripping with need. Petyr stroked himself thinking of how he would tease his ice queen after the feast. He thought this would be quick, but thinking of her only made him harder.

Petyr laid down on his bed, boots still on his feet. He pumped up into his hand, wishing his sweetling was perched above him. He imagined Sansa with her fiery locks cascading down, tickling his scarred chest. 

_Patience is a virtue._ He told himself this each morning. And each day he cracked a bit more when he met with her to break his fast. His breathing picked up, finally gaining on that unattainable goal. 

A few more fast strokes and Petyr spilled over his hand. He let out a moan, relief coursing through him. _This is all just temporary, Littlefinger._ He closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to catch his breath.

He knew at least Kettleblack would be looking for him by now. Petyr laughed as he looked into his mirror while pouring water into the wash basin. His hair was disheveled, brow sweaty. His face was wiped clean, except for his beard. Petyr wanted to keep that momento a little longer.

It was time to dress for the feast. And what a feast it would be. He yearned to watch his sweetling play the game. _Perhaps she'll do well and earn herself a reward?_ Petyr pinned his mockingbird to his doublet, imagining the possibilities.

**Author's Note:**

> So I felt a bit bumbly and prudish it Part 1 (how?) so I decided to write about something I have no real knowledge about, a guy masturbating. I really want to go all out in part three, wish me luck.


End file.
